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Summary
Summary
"Expect the unexpected."
That's what Eleanor "Groovy" Robinson's horoscope says the morning everything begins to change. Suddenly, her father is in jail, her plans to attend culinary school when she grows up fall apart, and it feels like maybe nothing will ever be right again. But the swallows that return to her coastal town every year bring a message of hope with them that even Groovy can't ignore. Can she forgive the failings of someone she loves in order to bring her family back together again
Kathryn Fitzmaurice's tender debut novel about food, family, friendship, and forgiveness is as full of promise as the swallows that return home to San Juan Capistrano every spring.
Reviews (5)
Publisher's Weekly Review
With her passion for cooking, 11-year-old Eleanor, aka Groovy, dreams of becoming a professional chef. But her father, a compulsive gambler, bets away her inheritance from her great-grandmother, money she had planned to use for culinary school. At first Groovy is as angry as her mother, who has Groovy's father arrested, yet during the next several weeks she learns that broken dreams, and broken families, can be rebuilt. Debut novelist Fitzmaurice creates a sympathetic heroine in Groovy and an interesting sidekick in Frankie, whose estranged mother makes a sudden appearance shortly after Groovy's father is jailed. Although nature metaphors (a surprise earthquake, birds returning early, dandelion seeds blowing in the wind) are overdrawn, the author's use of food motifs (particularly Groovy's ability to associate different dishes with specific events and moods) appears more relevant and smoothly integrated. Fitzmaurice does not completely resolve the family conflicts, but she provides hints that love will conquer old resentments. Ages 9-12. (Feb.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Horn Book Review
Eleven-year-old Eleanor "Groovy" Robinson aspires to attend culinary school. However, her plans are suspended after her father is sent to jail and family secrets come to light. Groovy's acceptance of her new circumstance is symbolically mirrored by the annual return of the swallows to her town of San Juan Capistrano. Her own personal journey is similarly rewarding. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* In San Juan Capistrano, the swallows return each year, but 10-year-old Eleanor, aka Groovy, is more concerned about her father, who was arrested before her eyes. It's shocking enough to learn that he's taken a $25,000 inheritance left to Groovy that she could have used someday for cooking school, but it's equally hard to hear that her mother is the one who called the cops. Meanwhile, Groovy's friend Frankie has his own parental problems. Fitzmaurice, a first-time novelist, offers readers a small, quiet, yet empowering story with an underlying message of forgiveness. The plotting is sometimes creaky. Groovy's father is arrested for something that is seemingly not illegal, since he is the guardian of his minor daughter's money, and he's released from jail without a trial; but these details will be problematic for adults more than children. What all readers will appreciate are the beautiful portraits of the characters, young and old, and the way the story delicately weaves its seaside setting into the story. Groovy's first-person narrative sensitively shows both her strength and her uncertainty, and in the end readers will understand when she finally embraces what she knows to be true: You gotta forgive.--Cooper, Ilene Copyright 2009 Booklist
School Library Journal Review
Gr 4-7-Watching helplessly as her father is taken off to jail, Groovy Robinson, 11, is convinced that there has been a terrible mistake. When her mom admits that she turned him in because he gambled away the $25,000 savings account that Groovy's great-grandmother left her, the child shrinks into herself-disappointed, hurt, not caring about anything. Not until Groovy-now wanting to be known as Eleanor-heeds the advice of the homeless old sailor Mr. Tom does she grasp that people we love can hurt us, but that only through forgiveness can we become whole again. This first novel is peopled with three-dimensional characters whose imperfections make them believable and interesting. Groovy's big-talking, ne'er-do-well dad donates a trailer to Mr. Tom. Her beautician mom is guided by astrology, but her boundless love for Eleanor is totally grounded. And Groovy's perceptive friend Frankie is unable to grasp the real reasons that his immigrant mother left him in his stepbrother's care. The well-structured plot is underscored by clear writing and authentic dialogue, and short chapters keep the story moving. The book draws a parallel with the birds of Capistrano, and a novel that encourages understanding, tolerance, and forgiveness is as welcome as the returning swallows.-Nancy Menaldi-Scanlan, formerly at LaSalle Academy, Providence, RI (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
Eleven-year-old Eleanor "Groovy" Robinson is a girl with a dream. Fascinated by food and blessed with a culinary knack, Groovy plans to use the money left by her great-grandmother to go to cooking school, until she discovers that her father has gambled this moneyher moneyaway. What's worse, her own mother has had him arrested for it. Groovy is by turns hurt, angry and lonely, but underneath all that she is confused. Her friend Frankie faces a similar situation: His mother vanished, leaving him in the care of his stepbrother, only to return years later hoping for a blissful reunion. In this daring, emotionally complex story, both Groovy and Frankie try to figure out how to accept people, especially parents, for who they are without abandoning their own needs and their own developing notions of right and wrong. As in real life, not everything is resolved in the end, and many questions remain, but things have achieved a fragile balance, rather like the ingredients in a delicate sauce. (Fiction. 10-14) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Excerpts
The Year the Swallows Came Early SNY Chapter One Coconut Flakes We lived in a perfect stucco house, just off the sparkly Pacific, with a lime tree in the backyard and pink and yellow roses gone wild around a picket fence. But that wasn't enough to keep my daddy from going to jail the year I turned eleven. I told my best friend, Frankie, that it was hard to tell what something was like on the inside just by looking at the outside. And that our house was like one of those See's candies with beautiful swirled chocolate on the outside, but sometimes hiding coconut flakes on the inside, all gritty and hard, like undercooked white rice. Things that look just right come undone quicker than the last day of summer. And one day, it happened right in front of me. The horoscope Mama read to me that morning should've been enough warning: Expect the unexpected. I'd raised my eyebrows and smiled, thinking the unexpected might be finally discovering a way to chop onions without crying or finding a dollar on the street--something unexpected but in a good way. It wasn't. Officer Miguel surprised Daddy and me, stopping us as we were walking out of the Swallow Shop & Ferry on our way into town. I walked with Daddy on his way to work every Saturday because I had no school bus to catch then. "Mitch?" the officer asked my daddy. "There's a problem." He stood on the main corner of town, like he'd been waiting for us. Like he knew we'd be there at this time on this day. "What problem?" I asked. I looked up at Daddy, thinking he must've forgotten to pay another parking ticket. "I can't be late for work. I just started a new job at the hardware store," Daddy told the officer. "I'm sure this can wait." He took my hand quickly like he suddenly remembered he needed to get to an appointment, and we started across the street. "But--" I turned to look back at Officer Miguel. "Let's go," Daddy told me, pulling my arm just a little. "You better take a look at this." Officer Miguel ran up to us fast, waving some papers, leaving his patrol car parked on the street. Daddy sighed and stopped on the opposite sidewalk, where someone had used gray chalk to draw a small bird flying over a tree. His left foot covered the leaves of the tree and half the bird. He squeezed my hand hard, like he was trying to decide what to do. But then he let go softly, and his hand fell to his side. "What's going on?" I asked him. But he didn't answer. Instead, he watched the sky for what seemed like a million minutes--and just then, it seemed perfectly stitched to the horizon in the west where the cumulus clouds made shapes--like he was looking for an answer. Like he was waiting for the clouds to form the words, Say this. . . . Finally he pointed to the side of the road without looking at me or telling me anything. So I walked there, knowing he wanted me to by the way he pushed his lips together. He held his arm high and stiff, like a command to go to my room. Maybe it's true there's no such thing as a sign from above, but as I stepped onto that curb, I felt something. Even worse, I noticed Mr. Tom, the homeless man, suddenly standing up the street looking like he knew something too. Like he was saying, Groovy Robinson, be ready, because things could be changing. My hands became sweaty. I waited while Officer Miguel showed Daddy the papers, trying to steer clear of Mr. Tom. I crossed and uncrossed my arms a million times. They had a mind of their own. Finally I pushed my hands deep into the pockets of my jean skirt just to keep them still. I'm here to tell you I listened the best I could, but every time Officer Miguel talked, it was too hushed. Daddy was louder and angrier than I'd ever heard him. And he kept taking little steps backward. And I kept thinking that he should not be talking to that policeman like he was. Then I saw his shoulders slump down. He got into the backseat of the police car while Officer Miguel stuffed his handcuffs back into his pocket, like he'd decided it wasn't going to be necessary to use force. Mr. Tom covered his face with his hands and sat down on the curb. I ran over to the car as fast as I could, blinking tears back into my eyes. I wondered what Daddy could've done to make Officer Miguel put him in his car. I told myself, Don't cry, don't you even think about crying. Who cares if they have to take him away? He'll be back after everything gets straightened out. "I can't go into this right now, Groovy," Daddy told me through the crack in the window. His eyes shrank to the size of tiny dots, and his face turned stiff. Quiet floated between us, the kind that makes people uncomfortable when there's nothing to say. Then he seemed to change his mind about talking, and with a sad voice he said, "Sometimes when you figure out the answer to a problem--something you know you need to fix--it's too late. You know what you have to do, but you've run out of time." His eyes looked at me, but like I wasn't there. "Groovy, listen to me." He put his hand on the window, his fingers smudging the glass. "Things can start out on track, but end up different. I'm sorry." And he looked away before I could say anything. "Groovy, is your mother at work today?" Officer Miguel asked me. "Yes, sir," I answered, but it didn't sound like the normal me. The Year the Swallows Came Early SNY . Copyright © by Kathryn Fitzmaurice. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from The Year the Swallows Came Early by Kathryn Fitzmaurice All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
